


Starfishbucks

by Crematosis, TrishArgh



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Crack Treated Seriously, Fish Puns, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Merperson Bucky Barnes, Merperson Peggy Carter, Merperson Peter Parker, Merperson Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crematosis/pseuds/Crematosis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishArgh/pseuds/TrishArgh
Summary: Working at the coffeeshop isn't always smooth sailing, but Steve wouldn't have it any other way.





	Starfishbucks

**Author's Note:**

> I was very lucky to be able to work with TrishArgh's super cute underwater coffeeshop art for the RBB. I had so much fun with the puns and the silliness and I hope you will too ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Beta read by [insomnia1999](http://archiveofourown.org/users/insomnia1999)

It began as a typical Monday morning for Steve. He woke early, a few minutes before the sunrise, savoring the quiet calm of the morning. Bucky was curled up in his arms, his breath warm against Steve’s shoulder. Steve couldn’t resist tangling their tail fins together and laying in bed just a little longer, just until his alarm started blaring like a foghorn.

“Great Barrier Reef, Steven,” Bucky whined as he buried his face in the pillow. “Turn that thing off.”

Steve grinned and patted the back of Bucky’s head. “Good morning, grumpy gills.”

“I hate you,” Bucky mumbled into the pillow. 

“That’s not what you said last night.”

Bucky raised his head just a little and glared at Steve. The effect was ruined by the tuft of messy brown hair in his face. “I hate you,” he repeated. “Whatever I said last night was a fluke.”

“That’s a lot of flukes. Last night, the night before, the night before that, the night-”

“Shut up, I get the picture.”

“Well, you can hate me all you want,” Steve said. “But I love you. Always have, always will. Not going to let a little grouchiness come between us. It’s you and me, till the end of the line, pal.”

Bucky’s glare softened. “I love you, too. But the next time your alarm goes off at 5 a.m, I’m going to punch you in the face. With my metal arm.”

Steve chuckled. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Bucky shifted in bed, his tail sliding over Steve’s. “You’re lucky I love you so much. Anybody else, I would have divorced them first morning that godforsaken thing went off.”

“We’re not married, Buck.”

“I would have married them just so I could divorce them,” Bucky insisted obstinately.

“I don’t like hearing about you marrying other people, jerk.”

Bucky smirked. “You gonna do something about it?”

Steve rolled over and pinned Bucky to the bed, peppering him with kisses. Bucky’s breath tasted like stale seaweed first thing in the morning but Steve ignored it as Bucky groaned and pulled him closer, deepening their kisses. Steve could think of no better way to start the morning than drifting in bed, trading lazy kisses with his boyfriend.

Before he knew it, half an hour had passed.

“Oh god, is it really that late?” Steve hastily kicked off the covers and began hurriedly searching for his work gear. He had no time for breakfast, barely enough time to flatten his bedhead into something presentable.

Bucky sat up in bed, letting the sheets drape over his dark scales. “Kiss for luck?” he said with an eyebrow waggle.

“I am very, very late,” Steve growled. But he obligingly leaned over and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “Be safe.”

“You be safe,” Bucky shot back. “The un-caffeinated masses are more aggressive than sharks, I’d say.”

Steve rolled his eyes. The customers at Starfishbucks were usually pretty reasonable. There were definitely a few bad ones that screamed and shouted about the tiniest problems, but he had a good boss that didn’t put up with any nonsense and felt very protective of her employees.

“Love you,” Steve called over his shoulder as he darted out the door. “See you tonight.”

He was very lucky that the coffeeshop was just a block away from the tiny apartment he shared with Bucky. And even luckier that he had finally put on some muscle now that he was adult. The skinny mer of his youth never would have made it on time. As it was, he was still cutting it close, slipping in the door with just a minute to spare.

Peggy was already behind the counter, looking completely put together as always, with her red lipstick, perfectly curled hair, and neatly pressed blouse under her uniform. Because Peggy wasn’t the type to rush into work.

She raised an eyebrow as he slipped his green apron over his head. “Skipped breakfast again, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said sheepishly.

With a shake of her head, Peggy started preparing Steve’s usual order: a bagel with smoked salmon and a large cup of Seas the Day, the cafe’s signature breakfast blend.

“You know, Steven, while it certainly looks good on paper to have a loyal employee eating here every morning, it can’t be good for your pocketbook.”

“It’s not that bad,” Steve mumbled.

One of the perks to working at Starfishbucks was the generous employee discount. So while it would still probably be cheaper to eat breakfast at home, it didn’t take a huge chunk out of his budget.

“If you say so. Now, there’s plenty of work to be done so I’ll need you to finish that quickly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve shoved half the bagel into his mouth and went to work setting up the tables and chairs.

There wasn’t too much work to do before opening. In addition to setting up the seating area, Steve was responsible for getting the coffee started, setting out the various sauces and syrups and locating the tip jar, which was really just a blue sea glass jar Clint had brought from home and slapped a “Thanks a Krillion” sticker on it. Peggy took care of everything else.

“Are we ready?” Peggy asked, sweeping out of the backroom with Pietro and Wanda, the cafe’s catsharks slinking along behind her, snuffling the floor for crumbs.

Steve hastily devoured the last bites of smoked salmon before the catsharks could get any ideas and then gave her a thumb’s up. “We’re ready.”

The coffeeshop opened promptly at 6 a.m. every morning, but it usually wasn’t very busy the first hour. The few mers that managed to drag themselves in at such an early hour were mostly zombies, barely able to string together a coherent order. Even the upbeat stylings of Katrina and the Waves seemed to do nothing to perk them up.

Just after seven, the first customer that Steve could actually hold a conversation with finally arrived. Not that Steve had ever held a normal conversation with Tony Shark. 

He was an eccentric inventor and always showed up in a combination of big sunglasses and bold patterned ties. And his personality was even louder than his fashion. If he wasn’t on the phone, making business negotiations in six different languages, he was flirting with any other customers that happened to be in line. Honestly, he seemed like he could do with a little less caffeine in the mornings.

But who was Steve to judge?

Steve picked up a large coffee cup and a Sharpie and smiled at Tony. “Deep Sea roast, I assume.”

Tony nodded. “And I want it black. Black like-”

“Like your soul.”

Tony squinted at him over the top of his glasses. “Huh. Maybe Pepper’s right. Maybe I do come in here too often.”

Steve shrugged. “So you’re in here once a day. I’d say that’s pretty normal. Plenty of customers stop by for a morning coffee before work every day. And we appreciate all our regulars.”

“It’s more than once a day,” Tony said sheepishly.

Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“I come in again just before closing,” Tony admitted. “When the new kid, Peter, is working.”

“Wait, you get another cup at midnight? How do you get any sleep with that much caffeine?”

Tony shrugged. “Coffee helps me sleep.”

“Really? Then why do you drink it in the morning?”

“To help me sleep through those boring board meetings, of course.” Tony winked and tossed a couple coins in the tip jar.

Steve shook his head. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. That was exactly the sort of crazy thing Tony would do.

After Tony’s daily appearance, business in the coffeeshop started picking up. Most of the morning rush was comprised of teachers, business mers, anyone that had to be at their job somewhere around nine a.m.

Luckily, most of them were reasonable and ordered something that could be made easily, like a plain cup of coffee or maybe cold brew poured over ice. But there were always a few mers who insisted on complicated orders and then pitched a fit over how long it took to make their specialty drink and breakfast sandwich. He almost preferred the early morning zombies. They were also crabby about being up at such an early hour, but they didn’t usually have the energy to take it out on him

And then there were the mers with special dietary needs. 

Steve was very familiar with what it was like to have food allergies. Growing up, he suffered from many different allergies, making it difficult to find safe foods when he went out to eat. So he sympathized, up to a point. But asking for the Proevolone breaskfast sandwich without eggs or cheese was impossible because the only things in it were scrambled fish eggs and cheese.  
By ten a.m., the morning rush died out and Steve and Peggy spent time restocking the pastry case and getting the sandwich and salad case ready for the lunch rush in between customers.

The midday customers were sadly no less demanding that the earlier ones. Steve was going round and round with a woman who was outraged that the shop didn’t carry organic seacow milk and wouldn’t take Steve’s suggestions to try coconut or macadamia milk.

Then he saw Bucky wandering in out of the corner of his eye, decked out in his navy blue and black Sharkurity uniform, hair slicked back in a tight bun.

Steve’s politely professional smile got a little bit friendlier. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But we’ve never carried organic milk here. Perhaps try Hammerhead Roastery? I hear they have organic options.”

Hammerhead Roastery was technically their rival coffeeshop across town. Normally, Steve wouldn’t suggest anyone eat or drink there. According to Bucky, the bagels one of his coworkers brought into the station tasted like driftwood. But the woman had been particularly obstinate and he was eager to get rid of her. If she would be happier drinking overpriced organic lattes and eating expensive tasteless seabiscuits, so be it.

The woman swam off in a huff and Bucky drifted lazily up the counter with a smug grin on his face.

“Well, well, well. Look at this nice tall drink of water,” he purred. He made a show of looking Steve up and down.

Steve rolled his eyes and fought a smile. “What can I get you, Buck?”

“A grateful kiss, maybe.” Bucky waggled his eyebrows suggestively and held up the lunch bag Steve had packed the night before. “Missing something?”

Steve groaned. “I can’t believe I forgot to grab it this morning.” He leaned over the counter and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “You didn’t have to sacrifice your own lunch bringing it to me. I could have bought a sandwich from the shop.”

“But you eat here all the time. Not to knock Peggy’s baking or anything, but you deserve more than a peanut butter and jellyfish sandwich for your lunch.”

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve tucked the sack behind the counter and gave Bucky another kiss. “I’ll see you tonight when I’m off work.”

“You got it, babe.” Bucky offered up a two-fingered salute and then frowned at the brown smudge on his hand. “I think something in there’s leaking a bit.” 

“Yeah, right,” Steve said. “You probably just took a bite of my eel.”

“Lies.” Bucky stuck out his tongue. “How could you disparage me like that when I brought you lunch out of the goodness of my heart? I’m hurt, Stevie. Deeply hurt. I’ll have to spend the rest of my lunch break crying in the bathroom because you don’t love me anymore.”

Steve shook his head as Bucky ducked into the restroom to wash his hands.

Peggy bustled out of the backroom with a tray of starfish shortbread. “Was that Bucky?”

“Yeah, he just stopped by to drop off my lunch. I was in such a hurry this morning I forgot it.”

“Go take your lunch.” She shoved a plate of broken cookies into his hands. “The two of you can share these so they don’t go to waste.”

“But it’s not even noon,” Steve protested. “I should stay and help with the lunch rush.”

“Oh, come off it, Steven. I can manage the shop just fine on my own for an hour. Eat with your boyfriend while he’s here.” She shooed him out from behind the counter. “I expect you to do the same when Angie pops in for a visit.”

Steve couldn’t really argue with that. He grabbed one of the tables closest to the restroom and waited for Bucky to be done.

Bucky was a little startled when Steve ambushed him coming out of the bathroom, but he recovered quickly. “Nice.I still have maybe twenty minutes before I have to head out.”

Bucky’s job didn’t give him an hour lunch break. Instead, he got two half-hour breaks. It was a little unusual, but Bucky’s job was a security position, so it made sense that his boss didn’t want him gone for too long, in case a problem came up.

Steve opened his lunch bag and took out his Tupperware of barbecued eel. There was a distinct fingerprint in the sauce. “I knew you got into my lunch,” he said indignantly.

Bucky shrugged and offered up an unapologetic smile. “Delivery charge.”

“You’re lucky I love you, jerk.”

“You’re lucky I love you too, punk.” Bucky reclined in his seat and propped his tail up on the table.

“No tails on the table,” Steve said sternly. 

Bucky stuck out his tongue. “I don’t see a sign saying I can’t.”  
“He is quite fond of his signs,” Peggy said with a smile. She gestured to the wall behind her where Steve had, over the years, tacked up several signs saying things like “Plastic Free Sea” and “Don’t Pet the Snapping Turtles.” Little things to help improve the lives of his customers and coworkers. Peggy always teased him for being a moral crusader, but she hung all the signs up anyway since Steve’s artistic style added to the shop’s decor.

Steve groaned. “Don’t start this again, Pegs.”

“You’re right. I should be focusing all my attention on this truly massive lunch rush.” Peggy looked pointedly at the empty line.

Bucky cackled.

“Don’t be such a trout,” Steve said. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I ain’t on anybody’s side,” Bucky said as he helped himself to another piece of Steve’s eel. “I’m just here for the food.”

Thankfully, the lunch rush actually started up after that and Peggy had to go take care of all the customers. Steve was relieved. Bucky was a handful all on his own. He didn’t need both of them ganging up on him.

The catsharks circled under the table, searching for crumbs. Steve gave Pietro’s mottled grey snout a quick pat and unobtrusively slipped him a small piece of his sponge cake.

Bucky eyed him across the table. “You’re wasting perfectly good food on those spoiled catsharks and you won’t take mercy on your starving boyfriend.”

“You’re not starving,” Steve said. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“But I am. I’m just starving for some loving, baby,” Bucky said with a leer.

Steve pushed the plate of cookies closer to him.

“I’ll take what I can get, I suppose.” Bucky devoured six cookies and then stood up with a stretch. “Gotta head back to work, babe.”

The rest of Steve’s lunch break passed by a lot slower without Bucky’s presence. He was almost grateful to get back to work. It was probably a sign they needed to try and have lunch together more often.

He couldn’t help but smile seeing other couples having lunch together in the shop. Sometimes he could tell a couple was only on a second or third date and it would remind him of when he and Bucky first started dating. They had been friends for so many years and transitioning to a romantic relationship had been awkward and weird at first. But they had stuck with their feelings and five years later they were still going strong.

Once the lunch rush died down around one, it was mostly college students until Gourani High let out.

Right at three, the high school’s yellow school sub-bus pulled up outside the coffee shop and Peter rushed out, tightly clutching his apron in one hand. “Hey, Mr. Rogers. Hey, Ms. Carter.”

“Hey, Peter,” Steve said. He raised his eyebrows at the big blue whale and the words “Pod Goals” splashed across the front of Peter’s t-shirt. Technically, if they wore shirts under their aprons, they were supposed to be solid colors and have no print on them. But Peggy could never manage to bring herself to enforce that rule with Peter.

“Where’re the new cups? Did we get them in yet?” Peter poked around the back room. “I don’t see any boxes back here. Did Namor not give us our mail?”

“He’s late.” Peggy crossed her arms over her chest. “As usual.”

“Well, yeah, but this is late even for him.”

“He lives to ruin our expectations,” Peggy said sourly. “We’ll probably be the very last stop on his route, just for spite.”

“Aw man. I was really looking forward to the color changing cups.”

“You’re not the only one. I’m not looking forward to explaining Namor’s failures to our customers.”

Peter sighed. “I hate getting yelled at. This is going to be the worst shift ever.”

It was sad that Peter was starting his shift on such a low, but Peter always did take customer complaints personally. After a decade’s experience in retail, Steve had stopped really caring about customer’s opinions. If they hated Starfishbuck’s coffee, that was a reflection on them, not Steve. After a little more experience, Peter would develop thicker scales. But Steve hoped Peter would never become jaded by the job. Peter’s youthful enthusiasm and excitement was a bright spot in Steve’s day.

On the schedule, Peter was supposed to take over at the counter while Steve took inventory in the back room and organized stock, but since the mail wasn’t there yet, there was nothing for Steve to really do. And he doubted Peggy would want Peter up front with the customers when he looked so dejected. So he stayed up front and suggested Peter work on reorganizing their merchandise displays for when the color-changing cups actually arrived.

Peter perked up a little when one of his favorite songs came on the radio. He started singing along with the song, getting louder and louder as the song progressed. “Voices tell me I should carry on. But I am swimming in an ocean all alone. Baby, my baby-”

“That’s enough,” Peggy said sternly. “If you have time to sing, you have time to clean.”

“My bad, Ms. Carter.” Peter fumbled for the cleaning supplies in the back room. “Getting right on it, Ms. Carter.”

They settled into an efficient rhythm. Steve took the orders, Peggy made the drinks, and Peter cleaned up after them. The after school crowd tended to be the rowdiest and messiest. But after Peggy had banned the worst troublemakers, most of the kids had settled down.

The shadow of Namor’s giant manta ray passed overhead and a box started to float down in front of the shop.

“Mail’s here,” Peter said eagerly. “I’ll go get it.”

“Have Steve go with you.” Peggy consulted her delivery sheet. “We should have seven boxes coming in today, almost four hundred pieces of inventory.”

“Four hundred cups? Holy mackerel.”

“Forty cups. The rest is regular supplies like syrups and powdered milk. And you are to let Steve carry those boxes, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Peter darted out the front door and Steve followed behind a little more leisurely.

By the time Steve made it outside, Namor had moved on to Swirls, the ice cream shop across the street. But he hadn’t left them any additional boxes.

“Uh,I think he forgot the rest of our mail,” Peter said. “Do you think he’s going to bring us the rest of it later?”

“At this point, there’s no telling,” Steve said. He picked up the single box and frowned. It was surprisingly light, not likely to contain more than a few cups. He ripped it open and sighed. 

There were no cups, just flyers for Hammerhead Roastery. And they were particularly ugly flyers too. Under the Roastery’s logo was a badly photoshopped image of a smiling Justin punching a shark and the slogan, “The caffeine punch you need.” It was incredibly offensive to mers like Bucky, who actually punched sharks for a living to keep the rest of the community safe.

Peggy was not going to like this.

Steve poked his head into the back. “Uh, Pegs? Looks like all we got is a box of advertisements for Hammerhead Roastery.”

“What?” she demanded. She dried her hands on her apron and reached for the box. “There’s no way that idiot could be so incompetent.”

“Afraid to break it to you, Pegs, but he is.”

Her eyes narrowed and she shoved the box back into Steve’s chest. “That is the last straw. Watch the shop, Steven. I need to sort this out once and for all.” With an angry lash of her tail, she was out the door, swimming aggressively after their irritating mail carrier. “Namor! A word, please.”

“Oh man, he’s in trouble,” Peter said quietly.

“He sure is.” Steve shuddered. He’d hate to be Namor right now. Peggy was scary when she was angry. He clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Let’s get back to work or we’ll be in trouble too.”

“Aw, but I really want to watch her kick butt and put that asshole in his place.”

“Language,” Steve said immediately.

Peter gave him a flat look. “Mr. Rogers, please. I’m going to be eighteen in a month. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter how old you are. You shouldn’t be swearing where customers might hear.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t think about that.” He clapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes went wide. “Oh no. I did it again.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “I don’t think anyone heard you.” The coffeeshop was pretty empty at the moment. There were only two middle-aged men sitting at the tables, and they seemed more interested in staring at the spectacle outside than anything Peter was doing. “But why don’t you go do something in the back for a bit? Get it all out of your system before Peggy gets back. You don’t want to be next in the firing line.”

“Oh no, definitely don’t want that,” Peter agreed vehemently. He hurried away.

Steve couldn’t resist sneaking a peek out the window himself. Peggy had managed to catch up with Namor and somehow talked him into getting off his manta ray. He couldn’t make out what she was saying from the distance, but she was really letting him have it, jabbing a finger into his chest as she shouted at him. He was leaning away from her defensively, lip curled in disgust. When she gestured widely back at the coffeeshop, Steve quickly ducked out of the window.

It would be embarrassing to get caught doing the very thing he told Peter not to do. 

There were no other customers in line, so Steve had time to call out some of the online orders that were lingering on the end of the bar.

“Kelpuccino for Ben,” he called out. “Kelpuccino for a Mr. Ben Dover.”

There was a familiar cackle from the corner table.

“Seriously, Clint?” Steve growled. 

Clint swam lazily up to the bar and picked up his coffee. “Gets ‘em every time,” he said smugly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do on your day off?” Clint had come in six times already that month, using a different vaguely offensive name each time. Steve had fallen for every single one and he was frankly tired of it.

“I’m on a date with Nat,” Clint said proudly. “Nothing better than that.”

“Ah,” Steve said. Now that he thought about it, he had seen a mobile order for a Natasha. If he had been paying attention, he could have put two and two together and realized the other coffee was Clint’s.

“Hey, Nat,” Steve called.

Natasha looked up from her sea salt caramel latte, smiled, and waved. She was still in her SeaPD uniform, so she’d probably just gotten off shift.

Clint took his seat across from Natasha and she smacked him upside the head.

“Ow,” he whined. “What was that for?”

“Giving your coworkers a hard time. I don’t know how they put up with you everyday.”

The front door slammed and Peggy swam back in, her expression still thunderous. “We should be getting our actual shipment later this afternoon,” she said curtly. “And if we don’t, his superiors are going to hear about it.”

“About time,” Steve said with a grin. “He’s been doing a terrible job for weeks. He shouldn’t be able to get away with that.”

Peter rushed out of the kitchen, smoke billowing behind him. “Fire! Fire!”

“Go out front,” Peggy ordered. “Make sure you’re a safe distance from the building. Steven, help escort our customers to safety.” She brandished the fire extinguisher. “I’ll take care of this.”

Natasha dove into action as well, standing at the door to keep anyone else from entering as Steve ushered customers out the door. Most left quickly with little urging from him. The thick cloud of smoke was a pretty good motivator. But one man stayed stubbornly sitting at his table and refused to evacuate.

“I paid six whole sand dollars for this swill,” the man insisted, raising his cup. “I’m not leaving until I get my money’s worth.”

Peggy returned from the kitchen, looking frazzled. “Steve, this is worse than expected. I’ve called the fire...why are there still customers in here? I thought I told you to get everyone out.”

“He won’t leave,” Steve explained. “Not done with his coffee.”

Peggy turned an incredulous look on the man. “Do you really want to die for your caffeine fix?”

“Do you want to be arrested for it?” Natasha asked, idly twirling her handcuffs. “I could get you for trespassing, being a public nuisance, loitering. Should I keep going?”

The man paled and quickly hurried out.

“Is that everyone now?” Natasha asked. She took a quick glance into the restroom and nodded. “We’re all clear. Everyone’s out.”

Steve followed everyone else across the street to wait for the fire department’s arrival.

By then, a crowd of both Swirls’ and Starfishbucks’ customers, and random passersby had gathered. Some mers were filming the scene on their shellphones. Others were gossiping about the cause of the fire and worrying aloud that the cafe could end up burning to the ground if the fire department didn’t show up soon.

Steve felt terrible for Peter. He had to be feeling pretty bad about what had happened, and all the talk was going to make him feel even worse. 

“I’m going to look for Peter,” he told Peggy. “See how he’s holding up.”

She nodded. “I’m sure he’s taking this very hard.”

Peter wasn’t easy to find initially, but Steve eventually spotted him hunched over behind one of Swirls’ trash cans, his tail pulled up to his chest.

“Hey, Peter. What are you doing back here? You okay?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Peter wailed. “I just wanted to help with the cookies Ms. Carter was working on. But then I knocked a container of oil onto the stove and everything just went up in flames. It happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Steve assured him. “Accidents happen in the kitchen all the time.”

The rest of his words were drowned out by the wail of sirens. Valkyrie, the fire chief arrived astride her white seahorse, Hippocampus, followed by two of the town’s fire trucks.

“Come on, men. Get to work,” she ordered. “Truck one, with me. Truck two, take the back. Let’s go, let’s go!”

Steve really doubted the cafe would burn down under Valkyrie’s watch. She was frighteningly efficient.

“You wanna come out from there and let Peggy know you’re okay? I’m sure she’s worried about you.”

“I guess,” Peter said reluctantly. He let Steve help him upright and guide him over to Peggy’s side.

“Peter!” She pulled him into a tight hug and then held him out at arm’s length. “Are you hurt? Any burns? Trouble breathing?” She turned over Peter’s hands and inspected them closely.

“I’m fine, Ms. Carter. Honest.”

“Nothing hurt but your pride then? Good. You’re far too young for scars.” She squeezed Peter’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sure your aunt will want the paramedics to check you over, just in case. But I’m relieved you aren’t hurt.”

“Oh please no! Don’t tell Aunt May,” Peter begged. “She worries about me enough as it is. If she finds out about the fire, she’ll never let me out of the house again.”

“She’s going to find out eventually. If not from you, then from her neighbor down the street who likes to exaggerate.”

Peter’s shoulder slumped. “I guess you’re right.”

“Steve!”

Steve barely had time to react before Bucky barreled into him. “Thank Neptune you’re okay. They told me the cafe was on fire and I had no idea if you were in there when it happened.”

“I’m fine, babe. The fire was just in the kitchen.”

“We should have the paramedics check you for smoke inhalation. With your asthma-”

“I’m fine, Buck.”

“Is Peggy going to tell me something different?”

“She’s going to tell you the same damn thing. I was nowhere near the fire and not in any danger at all. Give it a rest, would you?”

Bucky pulled him into a tight hug. “I just worry about you. You’re the first to throw yourself into danger if someone needs help. I’m a little surprised you actually evacuated instead of trying to put out the fire yourself.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Give me a little credit, Buck.”

Bruce, the cafe’s night manager, swam up beside them, staring up at the smoldering building. “What the heck happened here?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Bruce. I meant to call you, but it slipped my mind in all the chaos.” Peggy put gentle a hand on his arm. “We had a bit of an accident in the kitchen this afternoon and-”

“It wasn’t a bit of an accident,” Peter cut in. “It was a complete disaster.”

“It was far from a disaster,” she said firmly. “No one was hurt, which is the most important thing. Items can be replaced. You can’t.”

“Yes, I can,” Peter said miserably. “I’m going to be replaced with someone who doesn’t burn the place down.”

“You’re not getting fired.”

“What? Really?”

“It was an accident. I don’t fire people for making mistakes.”

“But, but-”

“No buts. We’ve all made mistakes along the way. The important thing is that you learn from them and become a better mer.”

“Yeah, just look at me, kid. I took my eyes off the sharks for one minute and lost my arm.” Bucky curled his metal arm into a fist. “Those toothy bastards won’t catch me unawares ever again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not the point I was trying to make.”

“Sure it is. I’m still working with the sharks, aren’t I? I didn’t get fired for that.”

She sighed. “Anyway, Valkyrie expects that the fire will be out shortly. The shop will be closed for the night, of course, but if either of you need hours, you’re welcome to stay and assist with clean-up.”

“I’ll be happy to help,” Bruce said. “Sounds like my kind of thing.” 

Despite being a manager, Bruce preferred to stay in the back preparing all the pastries for the morning and only came out front if Peter really needed him. He was excellent at mediating conflicts, but plastering on a customer service smile for hours tended to drain him more than anything. A night with no customers at all probably sounded like the best shift ever.

“I should stay and help too,” Peter said. “It was my fault, after all.”

Peggy placed a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Please don’t be so hard on yourself. We will rebuild. That’s what insurance is for.”

“Just think about it,” Steve said. “If Namor can screw up the mail everyday without consequences, you at least deserve one free pass.”

Peter’s mouth went wide. “Oh man. That makes so much sense.”

Peggy patted his shoulder. “Keep your fins up, darling. Tomorrow is a new day.”

 

~FIN~


End file.
